wishing upon a star

I’m in a field staring up at the beautiful diamond sky. A chill runs through the crisp air. Bumps rise on my upper and lower arms. One is suspiciously large and itchy. The culprit is confirmed, as a mosquito lands on my forearm. Its wings don’t have a chance to twitch before my hand takes over and smacks it. The mosquito leaves a dark red circle in its place. My mind runs through the questions that only matter to a curious mind. Was the blood left on my arm from the mosquito, the blood it stole from me, or the blood it stole from a different victim? Did the mosquito have a family? Did it get a last thought? What was that last thought? Is there a bug heaven? These are only questions that matter in the most curious mind of all. Mine. Eventually my mind bunny trails back to the freckled sky. Most wouldn’t think that my arm and the sky would be similar, but like the sky my arm is dotted. The difference between my dots and the sky’s is that mine are close bumps that are cold, where the sky’s are far away spheres that are made of fire. My eyes explore the night sky. They notice a special star. A star my father referred to as a wishing star. I close my eyes, fold my hands, and make a quick prayer. Once they open the star is gone, but a buzz runs across my thigh as my phone rings. My mom calls me to say dad has made a miraculous recovery. She hangs up. I slowly put my phone down. I look up once more the star is back. More brightly shining this time. Out loud I have to pray. “Thank you, for healing my world”.